Dusk
by BlueberryWaffles
Summary: How could he have ever believed that maybe, just maybe, the sun could shine, even for a monster?


_AN: Hey! This little piece of imagery set up shop in my head and wouldn't leave until I got it out; a short chronicle of Kenshin's life as night and day, moon and sun, darkness and light. I hope you all enjoy._

_Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderful creation that is Rurouni Kenshin._

* * *

He was born into darkness.

He was pitched forth from the womb—too soon, too early, ensuring he would always be of small stature—with no hope of returning to the warmth from whence he came.

The shadows were malevolent and unforgiving. The midnight claimed his loved ones and cast them into the gloom before he was weaned into the man he could have been.

The dim was unrelenting, clawing at and ripping away parts of him that his youth was not at propensity to give.

But he lived quietly, for one cannot miss the light if they've never experienced its incandescence.

* * *

It was many a year before he saw the stars.

Of whether they had always been there, he could never be quite sure.

Perhaps they had been waiting, lurking behind black clouds until the sparks of life had begun to glow as bright embers within his soul.

And with each sharp swing of his sword, each new technique mastered, each rare, precious, brief nod of approval from the strong-shouldered entity who had rescued him from the dark confusion of his early years, a new star twinkled in the sky.

They were something like physical manifestations of the things he had come to live for—kenjutsu, strength, bravery, and an unexplainable drive to protect.

The latter shone brightest, the North Star that he hoped would never lead him astray.

* * *

As the months wore ever onwards, he was unsurprised by how incredibly _dark_ it had become.

Gone were his stars—_had_ they ever truly been there? The guiding lights of idealism had vanished, with no supernova explosion or any means of protest, as if they had been simply snatched out of the night sky.

The storm clouds had invaded.

And every day it rained, a relentless red torrent with a slightly metallic smell.

* * *

Suddenly, a bright glow.

And with it, an earth-jarring confusion.

He had never come across such beauty before. He fought it, valiantly.

And lost.

It asked no questions and demanded no answers. It shone a patient light and waited for him to approach, with little regard for who—or, perhaps more accurately, _what_—he was.

The night remained, but rather than being a place to lurk unseen, it reflected the kindness, the solace, the mystery of the newcomer.

He could not see the craters. He cared little that they always seemed just fingertips out of reach.

For the moon had led him out of the dark.

* * *

And, before he'd realized it, new moon had come.

And it was his fault.

It had always been his fault.

This was where he belonged.

* * *

For many a year he walked and stumbled and ran in the absence of light.

Eventually, yes, some of his stars twinkled back into his life. In the lonely nights when he considered ending everything, the reminded him of the _why_ he had chosen to continue walking.

* * *

Daybreak.

His eyes, so used to the dark, burned with the coming of the aurora.

It was both terrifying and inviting. Never before had he known that this life could offer such _warmth_. Everything around him was cast in a new light—was the world really this colorful and alive?

The sun showed him that perhaps it was quite possible to live this life in the absence of constant misery. How had it become so easy to smile?

Selfishly, he never wanted to leave.

* * *

One day, when duty called—_as it always did_—he knew that he had to turn his back on the sun.

He held his arms out to the orb, its heat lapping at his skin, enticing him to remain.

But the voice that cried _help_ could never be ignored for long.

Clouds began to cover the sun's rays that day.

But to know that the bright entity was still there, albeit unseen behind the vapor, was enough for his days and nights to be warm.

* * *

It wasn't long before the sky cleared once more; the rays beating into his skin and giving him strength.

Such an innocent creature, he thought. It gave its warmth without reserve, shining brightest on those who thought they deserved it least.

But he couldn't deny that the fire had been sorely missed—fluid and free. And it was the source of life for all around him, whether they knew it or not.

* * *

Solar eclipse.

And although, this time, it had not been his hands that had brought about the darkness in the world, it might as well have been.

He sat, unmoving, weighted down in a sea of bones and blood. The shadows bound him to the ground, although it was completely unnecessary. He would never try to escape the darkness again.

How could he have ever believed that maybe, just maybe, the sun could shine, even for a monster?

* * *

That _word_. How, even now, could that just that _word_ stir him to life? He was enshrouded in destitution and blackness, and welcomed it. How could he stand and face the world once more?

Of course.

The moon.

It had been reflecting the sun's light all along.

_Protect_.

His North Star sparked and sputtered back to life. And although it was still night, this time he would follow its guiding light forever.

* * *

As soon as he heard the very possibility of bringing the sun's light back into this world, he found that he could sit still no longer.

And seeing the blinding light again gave him the strength to strike down every shadow that threatened the life around him.

And as the light burned into his soul, he could not help but wonder if maybe this _was_ where he was meant to be all along.

* * *

Dusk.

A hazy sun had sunk on the horizon, dazzling light dancing between the trees. It was closer and brighter than he had ever remembered.

Warmth pervaded him from every angle as he sat, while grandchildren battled each other with bokken and the laughter of dear old friends drifted along the air.

As his life drew ever to a close, his upturned face basked in the glow of the golden star that had comforted him for so many years.

As the worn hand, still slightly rough with the calluses of youth, cradled his smooth left cheek, he closed his eyes, drawing his last breath.

But he would not return to darkness.

This time, he would join the sinking sun in the sky.


End file.
